Can you see me now?
by The.Dust.Of.Jack
Summary: Despite popular belief, Light Yagami isn't perfect... Spoiler Warning.


Title: Can you see me now?  
Rating: Erm… it's not that bad. =]  
Pairing: None. Well… a bit of LxLight, I suppose. Not really. And if it is there it's only implied…and very, very bitter. x)  
Disclaimer: Lol. My name is neither Tsugumi Ohba nor Takeshi Obata. =]

Summary: Despite popular belief, Light Yagami isn't perfect. [Warning: spoilers.]

WARNING: _Spoiler alert. Spoiler alert._

* * *

**_Can you see me now?_**

* * *

_Despite popular belief, Light Yagami wasn't perfect. _

No-one saw this bar those Wammy kids (as in, all on them), but even they (even L _himself_) had fit Light into the stereotype of those stupid, annoying fucking people who _think_ they're perfect, but aren't. They had placed him solidly in the category of obsessive and vain (and one of those whose social skills are impeccable), therefore he _must _be impeccably manipulative.

They, supposedly, didn't see him as perfect with all these bad points shining like the star over Bethlehem, but they failed to note that the flaws they saw to him were the flaws that only those who were perfect had.

Because of this, Light had ended up losing faith in even the greatest minds in the world, the best detectives, the most raw of talent, because even they – regardless of what they thought they saw as the destruction of his perfect facade – couldn't help the fact it actually gave him another layer of perfection to add to it.

He was vain.

Everyone could see that.

And he was vain because he was completely (visually, at least) gorgeous; _perfect_. He had always been like this, and probably always will be due to self-control and exercise.

He exercised not only to keep himself aesthetically amazing, but also for fun. But no one believed that, as no one as perfect as he could possibly have room in their own little conceited world for fun.

Especially tennis.

Tennis was his favourite sport, without a doubt. But it was also a sport that, on the whole, worked better with a partner.

But a suitable partner had not been found, not even in L, as L always locked him in what seemed like a fight for his life; always looked for a hidden motive for something, _anything_ behind his eyes. He played heavily on Light's competitiveness, which usually (believe it or not) was held at a minimum.

But L didn't want to see Light's modesty, so he either blanked it from his mind (so not to harm the ever rising percentages), presumed it to be merely a trap that he wouldn't fall into, or used it to his advantage – fed it with nasty comments, watered it with Kira accusations, and let the competitiveness within the younger boy grow wild.

L could do that to a person easily. He was possibly more manipulative than Light.

Ha, but no one believed that.

Why?

...Well, isn't it obvious?

Because L wasn't _perfect_. He couldn't possibly manipulate anyone because he wasn't pretty enough to seduce them; couldn't even _act_ kind enough to sooth them into trusting him.  
In fact, he was fucking ugly, and he'd probably prefer to spend his _precious _time with your corpse than with you while you remained breathing. The stench would be bearable as long as it kept quiet.

Light often felt alone in an endless sea of blind, stupid, moronic people. Fucking unable to see; fucking unable to think. He had to put up with them day after day after day and it wore him down. As fucking usual – they were so fucking _stereotypical._

* * *

Light is just a human. He isn't perfect. He isn't a stereotype. He isn't one who has a major God complex, and he isn't one who showers compulsively.

He showers _routinely. _He brushes his teeth because it's hammered into _routine_. He cleans his nails, scrubs his face, combs his hair and irons his clothes because of_ routine_.

But there are also a few other little things that helps him to carry out his routine each day. One being his pride.

Pride is such a nasty little virus; a small but powerful part of the mind that could take over and control him as easily as if he were brain-dead. He walks around as if he owns the world because of his pride – the outward appearance of his obnoxious security is the mask his pride made so others cannot see how very insecure he really is. It's pride that keeps him safe and other's oblivious as he walks through the silent crowds, as he talks to those flustered people, and why he deliberately takes up challenges he cannot win.

He does not hate the ever controlling pride, but he would definitely resent it if it didn't provide such an affective mask: weak, flawed Light Yagami hides behind the strong, perfect facade, which shines brightly through a thin, transparent layer of 'portrayed' innocence, but what it really is, is a glimpse of who Light really is without anyone knowing any the wiser.

It was a defence against himself, too:_ You're showing them who you really are, Light, and it's their choice if they don't believe it. You're not hiding yourself, Light, like the weakling you think you are. You're not giving up, no one can blame anyone but themselves if your perfect charade falls through the roof in a pile of black ashes, and they find themselves unable to deal with the person you really are.  
_  
This particular trail of thoughts, practically worthless though they sound, had stopped Light from doing away with himself using the bed sheets too many times to count.

Light wasn't suicidal, as perfect people supposedly are, or can be. He was just fed up of being 'perfect'.

* * *

His flaws were innumerable, and funnily enough, even L had only picked up on a few. Mind you he had picked them up and gouged them out very nastily.

L had said that Light had no regard for anyone but himself, but that was most certainly not true. Light tried hard not to consider what a criminal's death would lead to, or who'd they'd leave behind or who he would hurt mote than he would help, as he wrote names in the Death Note. In fact, the whole 'Kira' mission had started with Light's care for the well being of others. Perhaps it _wasn't _the best way to clean up the streets, but it was the only way at hand.

L had said that, when Light _did _regard others, he regardled them like they were below him. Light had replied that L regarded every thing – and every one – like you would a stray dog who wouldn't leave your front garden: you give it a name so you know who you're kicking.

L had said testily with a voice like sharp icicles that Light gets very offended very easily, and Light did not argue to this vocally and merely allowed L the pleasure of thinking he'd won. He let L presume, as all others did, that he was a snob; a conceited spoiled brat; a mere child acting like he owned the world and nothing could touch him in the dangerous part of the neighbourhood. Nothing annoyed L so much as pretentiousness and snootiness.

L thought Light was going to get cut down mentally (if not, then physically for sure with his weirdo capoeira dances), and L would be the gleeful gardener doing the trimming.

But L was wrong – he wouldn't get a chance to even try, as Light's true personality saw so many other terrible flaws that L didn't, that the older man's supposedly 'mind-crippling' statements and observations didn't have as much affect as they perhaps should have done were Light really as vain and self-centred and as full of pride as L and, truly, everyone else, thought.

* * *

L thought Light hated people different from him, those less than adequate, or the weirdoes that were so much unlike the social norm – those that appeared like Quasimodo besides him. L, for example. Or even those who challenged him, mentally as well as physically.

But, yet again, L was wrong. Was completely _wrong_. So what if someone was different? Good on them, they don't have to meet any expectations. So what if they're stupid or ugly? That's not their fault. It's one less burden they have to carry.

So what if someone was smarter than him? Maybe he could learn from them, as he was doing with L.

And _so_. _**Fucking**__. __**What**_ if someone was more handsome than he was? That wasn't his loss. It was his gain, really. Then again, it was an edgy subject. He wouldn't wish his hell on other people. Only he could take it, because only he was so adept to weird and horrible things. He had a powerful will to carry on… which was possibly the only truly powerful thing about him.

The rest of him were lies. Even L saw that one. L saw Light as a monster, and Light… couldn't call him for that one. He honestly had no argument. Maybe he was.

Killing people is wrong.

And perhaps his biggest flaw was that he _didn't _believe in anything… not even his own cause.

He faced each day like it was another boring task he had to get through, and he slept if only to escape it.

* * *

_Light Yagami had never made the eye trade. The first time it was for the obvious reason: he wanted to rule on high for as long as his mere mortal body possibly could. But that was when his god complex was at it's full time peak; it had only ever decreased from that point on.  
He was asked again and that time when he declined it was for a very uncomplicated reason: he did not want to know L's name. Ever. Why else had he never looked into Rem's death note that fateful day? Knowing L's name was as if soiling the greatest respect Light could give to the memory of L itself..._him_self. Yet, it was more than just taboo. The reason behind not wanting to know L's name was simply that Light had never wanted to win.  
Shocking, I know._

* * *

Light was a human, so _obviously_ he must have to fit in _somewhere_ in at least _one _of the categories. They'd just judged him by his looks and high nose, and moved on to labelling the next person in line. They couldn't see any deeper; couldn't look past the beautiful, rich honey coloured eyes and search deep into his soul where the real Light Yagami was curled up in a pathetic little ball, wishing himself away from this mad world that was governed over by evil and degrading stereotypes. And Light looked perfect, so had to be absolutely evil within.

Now, lets just say you did find him safely inside and hidden underneath and between the carefully constructed layers… what then?

Well, Light didn't know what he would do, but for damn sure, it'd be only one step short of killing himself. He'd probably destroy himself as fully as he could without taking his life.

Why?

Why so dramatic?

Because Light was more than happy _on his own_, thank you very much. Having someone know him like he knew himself would send him to the edge, and effectively pushing him off the metaphorical cliff.

And if he wasn't pushed he would just leap, instead. He'd wind up bathing himself in a bath of acid just so they would never find him ever again.

Maybe they'd look all over the world, but not a trace of him would show as a result of their labours. They'd be just a few fingerprints on the side on an empty old bathtub in the privacy of his own garage.

He wasn't perfect; couldn't be perfect… but his own charade to protect his negatives made him so.

* * *

His final imperfection was his dangerous lack of care. He could sit by and watch the world drive itself to ruin quite happily if he wasn't the one orchestrating 'cluster fuck in e minor' with a pen and a piece of lined paper taken from the weapon of a shinigami.

But he entertained the thought a while. What a joyous evening it would be to watch the outside of his window burn.

* * *

_I am your shadow, I am your rain, I am your longing, __Let alone your pain, I am red, I am blue, I am your angel, I am in you..._

_Angel_

_I am your madness, I am your tears, I am your sadness, I am your fears, I am restless, I am your dreams, I am the moments… In between._

_Angel_

* * *

Light rarely enjoyed dancing with – never mind full out facing – the fact that people _could_ see him. If it were possible he would, in all honesty, enjoy the ability to just… disappear.

He wished himself physically invisible often, because it could get very wearisome: the constant attention to his undeniably gorgeous, tall, graceful figure. He wasn't about to deny the fact he was attractive, but it didn't stop him wishing his body to disgusting-ness.

After all, a plain ugliness was the realistic approach to invisibility. But no matter how much he ate he wouldn't get fatter, and no matter how much he put off washing he wouldn't get dirtier.

Because of habit. Because of routine. Because every day was the same.

Before he'd even turned his brain on to say 'eat more, shower less', he's already eaten his nutritious, healthy breakfast, brushed his teeth and cleansed himself ready for the day. He was, when he realised himself, already out the door and on his usual way to school. Or the investigation building. Or wherever they wound up when L was gone.

Sorry, when he had died. He was _dead_. Saying 'gone' irritated Light, because that made it sound like he'd come back.

Not that it mattered either way, whether he did miraculously appear again. L didn't see Light any differently to how Mello or Near sees him now. Actually, it's just like having double the L! Yeey!

Or maybe he was in too deep. Not that he hadn't been since the beginning. He'd lost control of the damned Notebook ever since the first time he'd put a pen to it.

Light knew he couldn't control his life. He couldn't control his habits, his intelligence, his pride or his supreme acting skills.

He couldn't control his chronic lying either. But that was a good thing, he supposed, as it was all that was keeping him alive.

But it still didn't count. It was a habit, and classed as such – one gained due to the courtesy of L, presumably.

He couldn't control his sanity. Couldn't control his thoughts. Could not control his disgusting deviousness that had tricked so many people to their deaths.

He couldn't control his emotions, either, or lack thereof. Couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He most certainly couldn't control how affected he was by everyone else.

But he was affected in a way different to how L used to presume.

L presumed Light took everything personally. And he was almost correct. But this tendency of taking things to heart made him colder, and more than a little cut off. The only emotion he could feel would be terror if, say, someone came to close to tearing down his cautiously constructed walls.

And only Mello so far had come close with his little stunt concerning Sayu. Kudos for him, Light supposed. Maybe he deserved a cookie.

Light cringed. What a stupid thought. Losing his fucking mind.

* * *

He should have died where L had. L hadn't wanted to die, and Light, although he didn't particularly like the thought of it, either, wouldn't have minded quite as much. A few seconds of pain… for what? _Or_ what?

Years of boredom?

Light would possibly do anything to switch places with L, but it wasn't gonna happen so he didn't bother to stray on the subject.

* * *

Light wondered if L felt bitter towards him. L saw Light Yagami as perfect. Perhaps that's why he wanted Light to be Kira so much; so he could have the great pleasure of ripping apart this presumption out of pure jealousy.

If anyone, Light would have let L see the true him. This is pure honesty. The complete truth. He should have, really.

But he couldn't.

L… L wouldn't understand. He'd never be able to understand the pain Light would go through to do it. Light would have to shred his skin piece by piece to fully unveil who he is. Taken off all his trusty safety blankets just to let L in.

But maybe Light should have just accepted the fact L could always just get lost inside him.

It was always interesting to stroll through another's mind, but what about within another's body (metaphorically speaking, of course)? To be able to search and explore, and to maybe kick-start the pathetic little dying heart…

Light could always do that himself; give himself reason and meaning with his very strong will… but for what? For whom?

Oh, who was he kidding? Nothing's going to happen. And, if he was lucky, he'd be dead by tomorrow afternoon, latest.

But he'd have to play it out this time, right till the end. No smug victory smiles, or last minute remarks. No. He'd have to hide, as he was so apt at doing, behind the evil eyes of Kira, even if it is for as long as it takes for Ryuk to write his name and those horrifying forty seconds where he'd have to cover up his excitement with hysteria.

But how hard could it be? For him, not at all. All he'd have to do was gather up all the pain and anguish and desperation he'd been quietly building up and finally let it free.

The most challenging part would be trying to make coherent sentences through it all. But he supposed 'no', 'I don't want to die' and 'stop it' would probably be enough. It'd fit into the obnoxious, self-centred image they'd all pinned him with since they met him.

And perhaps, if he was good enough, it'd be an act even Soichiro would be chortling about as he sits upon his cloud in heaven, along with L and a big strawberry cheesecake in between them.

Maybe if he was pathetic enough, he'd even make Near crack a smile.

Or not… the kid was like ice.

A bit like Light, really, but at least Light _pretended _he was interested.

He hoped to do them all good. He really did. After all, what was a reputation for if you couldn't die up to it?

* * *

Alright. Maybe Light did have a little bit of a God Complex. But, honestly, doesn't everyone? Everyone wants to be on top of the world; to be number one. Everyone wants that superior power. And anyway, Light's Godly moment had passed him by _preetttty_ much completely, now.

Maybe it was Misa, Mikami and Takada's constant worshipping. It drove him _nuts._

Or maybe was only weak, and was just strong enough to infect Light's brain and start this whole mess, and as soon as the student couldn't stop it, it'd left him. Now the want to be Godlike was exactly like everything else… just a show.

Even his wish to die was show. It wasn't really there, but neither was his will to life. He felt nothing.

He couldn't feel Near's smirking face, he couldn't feel Mikami's (victory) failure, and couldn't even feel the bullet Matsuda had just send flying straight into his shoulder.

He had heard it, had been forced backwards due to the impact, had seen the blood, smelt the iron, and had heard the bone Matsuda had hit crack. But he felt only faintly uncomfortable.

Truly, Light thought he deserved an Oscar for him acting abilities in his final moments.

His speeches, his expressions, his body language and whatever else he'd snuck in there was in perfect sync with the image they'd all created for him, even if his mind wasn't quite on the same wave length as their petty assumptions.

His mind was drifting to nowhere, and had probably realised it was soon to die so had quietly left, leaving a ghost of it behind. Light could feel it, could use it if he wanted, but it wasn't there and was just imaginary. Maybe he was like that all the way through; doomed to rot away on the inside even before the Death Note came to speed up the decomposition.

It had made his nerves snap, organs fail and his muscles collapsing in on themselves. And good thing they did, and Light had almost forgotten how pathetic it looked to fall down on your knees.

Light presumed Ryuk – who was looming far above him – was teasing, but hadn't cared enough to hear it through till the end. But he looked entertained enough… not that he didn't always. He seemed to find this wretched , sad and helpless Light Yagami _extremely _amusing. Well, at least he could bring a smile to someone's face.

Then he did actually feel something, and perhaps it was shock that killed him, rather that the heart attack.

Light muttered something ridiculous that he himself didn't catch, and then… he was gone.

His perfection seemed broken, but was, as always, maintained _perfectly_, and was almost built up all the stronger as the Task Force and SPK picked up the bloody corpse and tried hard to avoid the blank stare on an empty shell.

Perhaps it was then that they'd realise that this stony stare was no different from the looks he used to give them: empty, hollow, no emotion, and no life behind the caramel coloured jewels. Perhaps now they'll realise Light was only as perfect as they made him out to be, and because of this had never had any control; had been beaten out of his personality and life before he could ever grow to gain one; having never truly been there.

Maybe then they'll realise that Light never wanted any of this. Light was just acting his life away with a smile and a tap dance he found amusing and interesting at the beginning… for variety, you understand. Maybe then they'll see him as who he really is; merely another participant in a deadly game he played to lose.

* * *

_Light is just a human. He was born to merely die. Light Yagami is just Light Yagami. And Light Yagami is me. Why can't anyone just let me be me?_

* * *

The End.

* * *

Author's note 1: I have not been watching The Dark Knight . Nor Crush for that matter! Obviously. . (Song "Angel" by Jerry Burns and Sally Herbert from the film "Crush". Not mine =])

**AUTHOR'S NOTE 2**: I don't think I intended to go that far… Oops?

Well, there you have it: That's what you get for starting a ficlet without a plot.

Lesson learnt.

…and promptly forgotten.

Watch out for the second part of this, which'll be about Misa. It'll probably be called 'Going Under'. I'm not sure when it'll be out.

Anyway, upon further note did you understand where I was going with this?

No? Well, basically, I was traumatised by Light's death, and had to justify it somehow.

Also, I hate the image everyone has of Light being completely perfect. He's not. =] I enjoy ripping apart this perception as you can tell if you read my "Hinamizawa" xD.

And, I also hate the image of L always being right; always the good guy; always the hero. I love L more than I could ever love Light (I'm not kidding), but I'm more protective of Light. Does that make sense?

Also, all you other L fans have got to wake up and smell the coffee: L's a bastard.

And now, to justify the justification of Light's death: I don't think Light would plan to tell Mikami _not _to fetch the Death Note with express intention that Mikami will ignore this. I especially don't think Light would do this to _kill himself_, cos Light, in all honesty, would not commit suicide.

…But, then again, I don't think he'd put all his trust into a plan that both relied on someone else and that could fall to pieces as easily as this one did. And look where it got him. Light's a clever kid (though he did forget his condoms .). He's cleverer than Near is, anyway.

But… who knows? Maybe he was fed up? Maybe he'd realised he wasn't helping, he was only hurting! . Maybe he knew that with his arrest Ryuk would get bored and kill him. Well… he would do, he's Light Yagami. He would have figured out every possible outcome, even the one where Near wins.

And! Near is like…double as conceited as Light is, so wouldn't see the fact Light technically just won, and so would just presume it was his own genius that brought Kira down.

Or not. Maybe Ohba was just running out of ideas. Or they were getting fed up of Light (how? .)

It's just another of those mysteries like the 'what in hell did Light and L do when they were handcuffed together?" The fangirls think sex. But, just to burst every bubble in the world, lets keep to character: There was probably fights, verbal abuse, staring (on L's part), school work, detective work, sugar, coffee and sleep involved… in two separate beds, spaced faar apart. Personally, I think L would have chained Light to the bed at night. And not in a kinky way. Just because, after a whole day together, L was probably as fed p with Light and Light was with L.

I think I have now covered everything I want to say. I'm open to praise, hate, love, kudos, constructive criticism, questions and flames :D Specially flames. They make me lol. So, if you feel passionate enough to write to me, go for your life. Whatever floats your boat. I will reply…eventually. =]

That is all.

Jack.


End file.
